Chapter 307: Discharged
"Mr. Frank, do you need to use the restroom?"
"Mr. Frank, would you like some fruit?"
"Mr. Frank, are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere? Should I call the doctor?"
Ethel bustled about like a tireless little bee—always doing something, always finding work. One moment she was straightening the sheets, the next she was gently massaging Frank's legs. She took better care of him than even Sammi or Fiona, attentive to every detail.
Ethel had plenty of experience caring for sick elders. After all, when she was barely ten years old, she'd been forced into marriage with a cult leader in his seventies, responsible for his daily needs. Unthinkable as it was, the experience had left her very skilled.
"You don't need to keep yourself so busy," Frank said at last, uncomfortable with so much attention. "Sit down for a bit. Rest. Keep me company."
Just as Frank and Ethel were talking, there came a knock at the door.
"Gretchen?" Frank froze in surprise when he saw who walked in.
"Excuse me, you are…?" Ethel asked politely.
"I'm a friend of Frank's," Gretchen replied with a faint smile.
"What are you doing here?" Frank asked.
"You went through something this serious and didn't even tell me," Gretchen said, a hint of grievance in her voice.
Their relationship wasn't that of ordinary friends. They were lovers—an illicit affair, hidden from the light. But with Frank, Gretchen had rediscovered a fragment of her lost youth. To her, he was special. And yet, when he was hospitalized in such critical condition, he hadn't told her a word.
If she hadn't gone by Frank's house herself, she wouldn't even have known he was in the hospital.
"Here, please have some water," Ethel said courteously.
"Thank you," Gretchen replied, accepting the glass with a smile.
"Is this one of your kids too? I don't think I've seen her before," Gretchen asked.
"She's Ethel, my neighbor's kid," Frank said quickly. Then he turned to Ethel. "Could you step outside for a moment?"
Ethel nodded obediently and quietly left the room.
After Ethel left, the two of them finally relaxed and spoke more freely, touching on more private matters.
"I'll save you. I know everything about your condition," Gretchen said softly as she kissed Frank goodbye before leaving. "I'll find a liver that matches you—no matter what."
Over the past few days, Gretchen had sent him updates—but none of them were good.
Gretchen was wealthy, after all—a cofounder of a company valued at over a hundred million. Like many people in her circle, she had access to an organ bank of her own, with several organs stored away.
Unfortunately, none of them matched Frank.
The truth was, Gretchen's foundation simply wasn't deep enough.
Although she came from a well-off family, that money belonged to her parents—not to her alone. She also had siblings to consider. Her own rise to wealth had happened only in recent decades.
Most of her time and resources had gone into building her career. The organ bank existed largely because everyone else in her social circle had one—it was something she'd set up almost casually, to fit in. As a result, the number of organs she had stored was limited.
More importantly, Gretchen wasn't a true top-tier tycoon.
A company valued at over a hundred million dollars was very different from personally possessing that amount in liquid assets. The difference was enormous. Corporate valuation was full of bubbles and volatility, easily shaken by market sentiment.
A single piece of bad news could wipe out tens of millions overnight.
It was like Stark Industries—when that playboy CEO was kidnapped by terrorists, the stock plummeted. When he was rescued and publicly announced the shutdown of the weapons division, the stock didn't just dip—it fell off a cliff, shedding billions in value in no time.
That was the reality of market valuation: fragile and inflated.
Still, Gretchen promised Frank she would keep trying. Even if her own organ bank didn't have a match, perhaps someone else's would. She still moved among the wealthy, after all.
But Frank didn't place too much hope in it.
Gretchen wasn't acting alone. She had a husband—Elliott. Everything she owned, from the company to the organ bank, was jointly held. If she made too many moves, too quickly, it would inevitably raise Elliott's suspicions.
---
After staying in the hospital for a while, Frank was finally discharged and returned home.
The kids wanted him to remain hospitalized, but Frank insisted on going back. In the end, they had no choice but to give in.
His liver cirrhosis was already beyond treatment. Staying in the hospital wouldn't change anything—it would only mean nurses reminding him to take his medication on time.
Although the disease itself was untreatable, there were still complications—like the swelling in his ankles—that medication could help ease, making him more comfortable.
And that kind of care didn't require a hospital. The kids could remind him just as well.
More importantly, Frank hated hospitals.
Who enjoyed the smell of disinfectant, the constant rounds by doctors and nurses, the sterile confinement? No matter how sick he was, home was still more comfortable, freer.
So after insisting again and again, Frank finally returned home.
That said, he could no longer live as he once had. Flying to New Mexico, traveling around—none of that was possible anymore. Even if he wanted to, the kids would never allow it.
"Dad… are you really going to die?" Debbie asked softly, curled up in his arms.
"Even if I'm gone," Frank said gently, holding her close, "I'll turn into a star in the sky and keep watching over you."
"But I don't want you to die," Debbie said, her voice trembling. "You promised you'd stay with us. You said you'd see me get married. Dad's a liar… We made a deal. Whoever breaks it is a puppy."
"Woof, woof," Frank replied, barking twice without hesitation.
"Dad!" Debbie protested.
"Debbie, don't bother your father. He needs to rest," Fiona said, walking over and gently pulling Debbie away.
"Fiona," Frank said, looking at her—his precious daughter.
No—his second daughter, technically.
Sammi was his eldest by blood, and Frank carried deep guilt toward her. But in his heart, Fiona had always been his true eldest—the one who stood above all others.
If he was gone, the burden of holding this family together would almost certainly fall on her shoulders again.
Sammi had integrated into the family, yes—but largely because of Frank. Without him, she likely wouldn't care for the siblings with the same devotion Fiona showed.
Most of Sammi's love, after all, was centered on her son—little Chuckie.
And Frank knew it.